


The Barista

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-02
Updated: 2011-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Sheppard meets the new barista at the Athos Cafe. He's definitely impressed.<br/>But he has no notion of just how much this meeting will change his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Monday's Child

 

John noticed the new barista immediately.

Old Sharon made a damn good cappucino, but she wasn’t quite so easy on the eyes. The new girl, on the other hand, had hair that went to honey in the sunlight, lashes like curtain falling, and a smile that played on her lips like a secret kept safe in the soul.

Which, John thought to himself as he fronted up to the counter with his order, was weirdly poetic coming from a guy who didn’t have much romance in his soul.

She seemed to be working alone this morning, no sinecure for the reasonably busy Athos Bean shop, just outside the major bus stop for Cheyenne University, CA. The coffee shop was full of students, but John seemed to have come at a quieter moment, and he was the only one at the counter.

Which meant he had the full attention of the barista as she rapped out the old grinds from the handle and arched a brow at him, inviting him to make his order.

“Good morning.” It never hurt to be polite, especially to a pretty girl. “One caramel skim latte, one soy double espresso, and one regular cappucino,” he said, leaning down on the counter as she took a fresh shot of grinds from the grinder and set it up on the machine. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

Laughter danced through tip-tilted eyes as she collected mugs and set them beneath the taps. “New to working here,” she said as she turned dials and flipped switches. “Not to making coffee.”

“I can see that.” Given the way she was handling the machine and the milk jugs, a kind of dance along the grinders and taps, John had quickly figured she wasn’t a novice. “So what brings you to the Athos Bean?”

Small hands deftly hefted the jug up to the steaming wand and her hands measured the temperature of the milk as she heated it. “Work.”

It wasn’t quite the answer John had been seeking. Still, he worked with what she gave him. “So...you’ll be working here for a while?”

One corner of the wide mouth twitched slightly - a fleeting smile, come and gone. “Perhaps. At least a week.” She set the jug down with a tap, wiping the steaming wand with a cloth before she poured out the frothy liquid into the first mug, rippling the milk so it made a fern pattern with the coffee syrup. “Caramel skim latte.”

“Ah,” John said. “So you’re on probation.” With the kind of expertise she was showing, she wouldn’t be on probation very long. He watched, impressed, as she expertly steamed a second jug of milk. “Well, if you’re regularly on this shift, you’ll probably get to know us fairly well,” he indicated the table over in the corner. “We’re in most mornings.”

She glanced over to the table where Elizabeth was skimming the paper and Rodney was on his cellphone, noisily arguing figures over the background of Carrie Underwood’s acoustic version of ‘ _I’ll Stand By You_ ’. “Well, that’s not good enough, Radek! The Pegasus proposal tables tonight... What do you mean, it’s _ten_? It’s...wait, wait! Tell me you haven’t got the pre-storm calculations? Because that hit us hard and we don’t... No! You have to get them from the new file! What do you mean I never...?”

“I see,” she said as she poured the next mug out, this time rippling the frothy milk in a shamrock pattern. “Regular cappucino.”

“Rodney’s not always that noisy,” John apologised. “I’ll settle him down when I get back there...”

Again, the smile danced across her lips as she heated the last milk for his order. “And a soy double espresso,” she said. “Eight dollars and thirty cents, please.”

John paid the money and she rang the order through on the register, with only a moment’s hesitation as she found the appropriate buttons. “So,” he said, his mouth moving before his brain could censor the words, “same time tomorrow?”

She rallied well, although her eyes laughed at his embarrassment. “My mother warned me about talking to strangers.”

He figured he was better off brazening it out. “Well, I’m John. John Sheppard. I like Ferris wheels, college football, and anything that goes more than two-hundred miles per hour. And a good cappucino.” He indicated the mug onto the tray.

Her smile came and went, a flash of white teeth between dusky lips. “Pleased to meet you, John Sheppard. My name is Teyla. And I prefer tea.”

And with that, she moved away to clean out the machine, leaving John standing there feeling like an idiot.


	2. Music And Miss Piggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John walks into it.

Sharon was back in the Athos Bean the next day, taking the orders and leaving Teyla to work the coffee machine with her neat grace.

John waited for her to fill the order, figuring that conversation was completely out with her boss looking over her shoulder. But her lips curved in a smile as she frothed the milk. “John Sheppard who likes ferris wheels.”

“Teyla who prefers tea.” He responded in kind and tried to ignore Sharon Athos’ faded blue eyes watching him with something that might have been amusement but was more likely annoyance. “You made it through day one.”

Today’s smile was a quirky twinkle rather than yesterday’s brilliant flash. It still looked gorgeous on her face. On the radio, Faith Hill reminded him to ‘just breathe’. “Yes. But there is still the rest of the week to go.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” he said.”Yesterday’s cappucino was amazing.”

“High praise,” she murmured as she swirled the milk in a kind of yin-yang pattern for the slim, Asian guy to take to his girlfriend in the corner. “Do you drink much coffee, John Sheppard who likes ferris wheels?”

John mock-scowled at her. “You know, if you’re going to be like that, you could at least add that I like college football and things that go really fast.”

Teyla laughed as she began the tap-and-handle routine of operating the machine, slipping the mugs from the shelves and laying them neatly beneath the various spouts. John angled himself the better to watch her work, and was relieved when Sharon went out the back for a bit. It left him alone with Teyla.

Okay, so it left him with Teyla and a café full of students, but it allowed him to talk to her, which he couldn’t do when her employer was watching them.

“So you’re going to be taking this job full-time, then? If Sharon okays you?” He tried not to sound too hopeful.

One bare, bronzed shoulder lifted and fell in a shrug. “Perhaps.” A little silver disk hanging on a leather band gleamed at her throat.

John listened to the chug and hiss of the machine as it forced the water through the pipes. “Are you studying?”

“No,” Teyla said, pushing back a wisp of hair as she cleaned the steaming wand. “My father did not think it needful, and neither did I.”

“What were you going to do?”

Her eyes lifted to his from the coiling swirl in Rodney’s double-espresso cappucino. John wasn’t sure what she was looking for until a moment later when she said, “I wanted to be a professional singer,” she told him.

“Rock star?”

There might have been a pink glow to her cheeks as she tapped the milk jug to settle the foam. “I was more interested in in country and western. Or opera. Or being Miss Piggy.” Her eyes slanted up to his, waiting for him to laugh.

John manfully bit his cheek, but couldn’t stop the smile. “What happened? With the singing, I mean, not being Miss Piggy.”

“My family did not approve,” came the explanation as she began heating the milk for Elizabeth’s skim latte.

 _Ah._ An old story. John’s family hadn’t approved of him going ‘into business’ either. It was probably the ‘only son and heir’ thing - Rodney hadn’t had to argue half as hard as John, let alone take matters into his own hands.

“And now you’re stuck as a barista,” he said.

A smile settled on her lips, small and secretive. It took her a moment to answer, involved as she was in the feather-like patterning of Elizabeth’s latte, and when she did, her voice was soft and low. “I would not say ‘stuck’. It is...a means to an end.” Her gaze pinned him. “Is not your degree a means to an end?”

“Oh, I’m not a student anymore. In business now.” And trying to prove himself.

“But with a fondness for fairgrounds, football, and fast cars?”

“Surely you like something _other_ than music and Miss Piggy?”

Teyla had a thoughtful expression on her face as she finished the cappucino with a floral swirl. “Making coffee,” she told him, pushing the mug across the table. “Your order is ready.”

As he carried the drinks back, John figured he’d walked into that one.


	3. The Purpose Of Foofing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elizabeth is rendered speechless, Rodney is catty, and Ronon is menacing.

“The main problem with the Pegasus group is that they don’t list which companies have the controlling interest in the Atlantis Grand,” Elizabeth said. “Without that information, we’re stuck making...a...blind...offer...”

John was reading through the printouts spread across the table when his colleague trailed off. He looked up, alarmed.

The guy who was just straightening from having propped his board up against the door was tanned, muscled, and naked to the waist. With a resentful eye, John could concede that the guy was probably reasonably good looking beneath the short beard that covered his lips and chin.

In the momentary lull of conversation as one large bronzed hand pushed sleek wraparound sunglasses on top of a writhing mass of dreadlocks, John heard the female population of the shop sit up and foof their hair.

The primping lasted only long enough for the guy to walk through the shop and move into the space behind the counter and began searching the drawers. “Teyla, I’m borrowing your car.”

She didn’t look up from the machine, but from his vantage point, John could see the way Teyla’s mouth thinned. “No.”

“I don’t have a car anymore.”

She poured four lattes and served them to the waiting queue. “No. Because you crashed your last one.”

“Can’t afford another,” the surfer guy said in what he probably thought was a reasonable tone. It - the whole conversation, its familiarity and ease - was making John fight the urge to grind his teeth. “Gotta get to Saul’s before lunch.”

“Take the bus,” she said with a twinkling smile.

He shot her a look that said he’d rather stand on his board and try to surf there.

“Ronon!”

He shut the drawer and straightened immediately like a kid in trouble. “Uh, hi, Sharon.”

The elderly manager of the Athos Bean eyed him from behind the sweep of bead curtain. “I wish a word with you.”

Ronon huffed and moved around the counter, into the back of the shop - but not before he jabbed Teyla in the ribs. As she switched off the froth wand, she caught John’s gaze and rolled her eyes with a wry look of exasperation.

It took Rodney’s pointed cough to draw John’s attention back to the meeting, Elizabeth having gotten over her momentary speechlessness. An hour later, the trio split after agreeing to the division of work for the next couple of days.

“I’ll be researching the companies tomorrow,” Elizabeth said as they packed their stuff up. “So I won’t make tomorrow’s meeting.”

“We’ll just have the meeting in the office,” said Rodney.

“What’s wrong with here?”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “You can do without the barista for _one day_ , Sheppard!”

John made a face at his colleague’s retreating back.

“Meow,” was Elizabeth’s comment. “Have fun chatting her up.”

“I wasn’t...”

She just rolled her eyes as she went out.

John made his way to the counter of the shop, feeling almost sheepish. Sure, he was being obvious, he just hadn’t expected the others to call him on it.

There seemed to be a lull in business since Teyla was leaning down against the counter with a book flat on the countertop.

“Any good?”

She glanced up. “Would you like another cappucino?”

“How about we start with the book and I’ll decide if I want another ‘cino later?” John caught the eagle eye of the surfer guy as he passed them with a load of dishes, and ignored the penetrating stare.

Teyla lifted the book so John could see the cover of Dan Brown’s _Da Vinci Code_. “It is...not bad. I am not reading too much into it--”

“Which is probably the way it’s supposed to be read,” John noted. “Without a conspiracy theory angle.”

“On the other hand, a conspiracy is always entertaining,” said Teyla with a mischievous smile. “You have read it?”

“No. Last time I started a book, it was _War and Peace_.”

“And did you finish it?” Her smile said she suspected he hadn’t, and John couldn’t say he had. “I could not read through it either. Halling was disappointed.”

Her tone of voice made it reasonably clear that Halling’s good opinion wasn’t considered particularly important, but John couldn’t help asking anyway. “Halling’s your boyfriend?”

Judging by Teyla’s look, his question wasn’t as transparent as he’d hoped. “Halling is a friend,” she said.

“Unlike you,” said Ronon as he leaned down on the counter beside Teyla in a menacing pose. “Shove off.”

Rather than shove off, John held his position and looked to Teyla, who didn’t seem happy with the interruption. “And him?”

“I have better taste than that.”

“Like him?” Ronon demanded, eyeing John.

Her sigh rustled through the café. “Make yourself scarce,” she told Ronon, and now her voice carried bite. “ _Now_.”

With a flash of a grin, more amused than offended, Ronon shrugged. “Can’t,” he said. “Sharon wants to speak to you in the office.”

“Heaven help the customers.” Teyla said as she turned to John and hesitated. “You will be back tomorrow?”

If John’s hair hadn’t already been ‘foofed’, he’d have foofed it. Instead, he kept his exultation to a grin, ignoring the scowing Ronon as he answered Teyla’s question. “Sure.”

It wasn’t until he was settling into his car that John remembered the meeting with Rodney.

 _Damn._


	4. Far To Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thursday's child still has far to go...

By the time John pulled up in the bus stop outside the Athos Bean, late Thursday afternoon, the ‘closed’ sign was up on the door and the lights in the front section were out.

John quietly swore to himself as he stopped the car just outside the café in the bus zone. A quick squint at the sign by the door showed that it closed at six on Thursdays, and a quick glance at the clock on his dashboard showed it was just past that.

Maybe he could park his car around the back, then duck in and see if Teyla was just tidying up? Surely she’d have some accounts to do out the back? Closing up shop? Cleaning something?

Maybe it was a bit obsessive to seek her out like that? It was one thing to buy coffee at her shop every day, another to try to see her after hours. But she’d mentioned seeing him today like it was expected - like she was looking _forward_ to it.

In truth, John was a little surprised he’d gotten through the day without heading over to the Bean. He’d ended up thinking about her every time he let his brain up for air.

He scrubbed one hand through his hair as he glanced up at the fast-fading sky. It had taken him longer to get here than he thought - did he even have time? His work wasn’t done and he’d intended for this run to be brief. A quick calculation of the amount of work he had to get done before tomorrow’s meeting only came up with ‘a lot’.

Then a light came on in the shop and all considerations of work still to be done went out the window.

John pulled out of the bus stop and drove into the nearby parking lot. At this hour, it was mostly empty with only a handful of other cars around. John absently admired the sleek lines of the scarlet Porsche Carrera S he pulled up beside, then locked his car and hurried out into the purple evening.

On the threshold of the Bean, he paused.

Outside the coffee shop, it was getting cold and the light was swiftly fading from the sky.

Inside the coffee shop, Teyla was dancing.

To the swing and bounce of _Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)_ , among the empty tables and upturned chairs of the shop, Teyla was dancing as she swept the floor.

John just watched from the outside twilight as she slid between the tables, the broom head navigating between the splayed legs of the tables as her hips swung and she sung in time to the music.

She had a nice singing voice. Maybe a little too clear for country and western, not strong enough for opera, but she could hold the tune very well - and keep the rhythm of the song.

In the shop, the light shimmered along the bare tan of her arms as she wielded the broom neatly around the table legs, gleamed across the silver disc she wore at her throat, and twinkled off her lacquered toenails - a love affair of light and Teyla, who worked as a barista at the Athos Bean.

She danced like a woman who had no cares on her shoulders.

She danced like there was no-one watching.

To her, maybe there wasn’t.

But John stood back in the darkness, an unseen voyeur to her unselfconscious, easy performance, and felt a smile curve his mouth, helpless and hopeless in the throes of something that squeezed tight coils around his belly and made it hard to breathe.

Earlier today, while spinning pens across his fingers in one of the meeting rooms in the office, he’d reflected that he was already halfway to falling in love with Teyla. Watching her through the windows of the Athos Bean, John realised he wasn’t just halfway to falling in love with this woman; he was already there.

He was in so much trouble.

Rodney would sneer, Elizabeth would look askance, the various directors of Stargate Enterprises would probably lift eyebrows, singular and plural, and his parents would have kittens.

And he didn’t care.

This wasn’t for them, or the company, or what they wanted of him or for him. This was for himself and a girl who lacked the background, the bank account, and the education ‘appropriate’ to a guy like John Sheppard, but who had personality, humour, and verve enough to be herself - and be attractive just by being herself.

 _All the rules we make are broken._

Maybe, at the end of it, John’s heart would be, too.

Standing out in the night, John decided he didn’t care.

Teyla finished with the song and the broom, switched off the lights and the stereo, and went her way out the back with a serenity that belied the happy abandon of only a few moments earlier.

And John pulled his leather jacket close around his shoulders, walked back to his car with a smile, and returned to Stargate headquarters with a lighter heart.

He had plans to make.


	5. Invitation To Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One does not call a man wearing Italian silk ties by his first name unless invited.

On Friday, John was at the Athos Bean well in advance of closing time.

He hesitated outside the open door of the shop, only too aware that he looked a far cry from the coffee shop’s usual customers, even with his tie loosened and his collar unbuttoned, his suit jacket flung over one arm and his briefcase in the other.

Then Teyla glanced up from the coffee machine, flashing her broad, delighted smile at him, and he stepped into the coffee shop and up to the counter without further hesitation.

“You look very professional this afternoon,” she said as came up to the counter.

“Yeah, well... I had a business meeting this morning. Which is also why I wasn’t in yesterday.” Except he had been here yesterday, he just didn’t want her to know that he’d watched her dancing and never let on that he was there.

“Ah.” She poured a cappucino and slid it across the counter to another customer. “So, what would you like today, Mr. Sheppard?”

He eyed her at the formality. “Something’s wrong with my name?”

“It does not match your attire,” she explained. One hand reached out and flipped the tie around to show the label. “One does not call a man wearing Italian silk ties by his first name unless invited.”

“Well, consider yourself invited,” said John pointedly. “Because you’re not going to call me ‘Mr. Sheppard’ all night.”

In the silence that followed, his skin took on a shade that resembled sunburn, his brain threw its hands up in disgust, and his internal censors tendered their immediate resignation in shame and disgrace.

“Uh,” he fumbled for something to say that might get him out of this situation. “Look, I was going to ask if you were free tonight, but...I seem to have gotten ahead of myself.”

“Yes, I believe the gun is well and truly jumped,” came her dry observation as a car revved by and she turned to watch it go. Then a thoughtful look appeared on her face, mitigated by the laughter in her eyes. “And if I was free tonight?”

Her amusement was heartening - weirdly so, perhaps, but at least it meant she wasn’t totally disgusted with him. “I was going to ask you out.”

“To a club?”

John thought about sliding an arm around her waist as they danced, hip to hip, in one of the expensive, downtown clubs, and felt his nape warm.

He kept his voice even and easy. “I was just thinking of dinner,” he said. “There’s a Japanese restaurant downtown - House of Cherry Blossom - that’s supposed to be good. They make great tea - both hot and iced,” he added ingenuously and was rewarded with the flash of her smile before her eyes narrowed.

“Are they not usually booked out on Friday nights?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But I have a reservation for six-thirty.” That reservation would cost him a month of grovelling before Miko, but John figured it would be worth it.

Teyla glanced at the clock and grimaced. “I would like to. But I do not finish here until five. By the time I clear up, it will be five-thirty, and I would still have to get home and change--”

“Go as you are,” he said immediately and weathered her look of disbelief. “Seriously, you look great.”

“You are wearing Armani,” Teyla replied seriously. “I am wearing Gap. John, there is a disparity here that you do not appreciate.”

Women! “There’s something here that I think you’re not appreciating. Teyla, I want to go out with _you_ , not your clothing.”

She stared at him for what seemed like an age, before a slow smile grew on her lips. “That does not change the fact that I am not dressed...”

“You’ve got clothing on,” John said, keeping his voice level in spite of his exasperation. “That’s dressed.” To say nothing of the fact that Teyla would still be classy whether she was wearing silk or scraps. “Come on,” he wheedled. “Dinner at Cherry Blossom! I’ll drive us both there and get you back here to your car when we’re done.”

A few tense seconds passed, during which John imagined her saying, ‘No,’ and turning him down, just like that, and all because she didn’t think she was dressed nicely enough. The next step would probably be taking her into one of the shops in the area and buying her an outfit that she thought was good enough to wear to a restaurant.

On the roadtrip of John’s personal state of mind, he figured they’d just passed the outskirts of Crazy and were well on their way towards the city limits of Desperate.

Her sigh was resigned. “I imagine you have been called stubborn before?”

“They usually go for pigheaded,” John said, unable to hold back his smile. “So, it’s a date?”

Teyla rolled her eyes. “It is a date.”

“Good.” He straightened up, all business again. “And I’ll have two more things, please. An irish creme cappucino to get me through the rest of the afternoon.”

“And?”

“Your name.” At her questioning look, John clarified. “I still don’t know your surname.”

She laughed as she began prepping the machine for his cappucino - and the arriving flood of afternoon students. “I never told you, did I?”

“Nope.”

“Emmagen. Teyla Emmagen.”

And with one sidelong, smiling glance, Teyla went back to work.


	6. Let's Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John likes fast things...

“That is yours?”

John turned, and found Teyla halted in the middle of the parking lot avenue eyeing his Maserati Spyder with appreciative eyes. “Yeah.”

Her wide mouth curved as she tossed the tasselled end of her scarf over her shoulder and crossed over to him. “Should I ask if your business is legal?”

He grinned and opened the passenger door for her, noticing the way she trailed the backs of her fingers over the hood in a caress that wouldn’t leave fingerprints on his paintwork. The woman knew about fancy cars and their owners. “You already knew I liked fast things,” he quipped as she slid past his back and around the door.

Teyla paused with her hands on the upper edge of the door. “Cars? Or women?” The tilt of her head was a challenge, and John nearly kissed her. Her mouth was only inches away, and it would be so easy to lean forward and...

John hesitated. He wasn’t sure why, only that his instincts told him it was the wrong time. Too fast, too early, too easy. He responded to her question instead. “Is there a safe answer to that?”

Teyla didn’t seem disappointed - rather, she was laughing as she slid into the car seat and crossed her booted feet at the ankles. “No.”

“Then I plead the Fifth,” he told her, closing the door and moving to the driver’s side to get in. “I’ve never taken her over one-twenty, though.”

She eyed him as they pulled out of the parking lot. “On road?”

“Uhh...”

Teyla laughed as she crossed her legs and settled more comfortably into the moulded seat. “I believe that means ‘yes.’” She made a ‘tsk-tsk’ noise.

“And you’ve never broken the speedlimit?”

Her silence was eloquent enough. “So what do you do that allows you to afford a Maserati, Mr. Sheppard?”

He glanced at her as they stopped at traffic lights and the music changed to Snow Patrol’s ‘Chasing Cars’. “Let me guess. You don’t call men by their first names when they just happen to drive expensive cars?” Her brief laugh was answer enough. “I’m with Stargate Enterprises,” he said and saw her start. “Yeah. Playing with the big boys.”

“You have been with them long?”

“About three years,” he admitted. “The others in the taskgroup I’m working with have been with them longer - my friends at the coffee shop.”

“Ah,” Teyla said. “Taskgroup?”

John considered how much he could or should say as he switched gears. “You know the Atlantis Grand Hotel?”

There was a pause. “I have heard of it,” she said dryly.

“Yeah. We’re working on a merger offer. The companies that own the hotel have let it run down, we’re looking to do it back up.”

When he glanced to see Teyla’s response to this, he found her looking out the car window. “And you have much experience in mergers?”

“A few,” he said. “Mostly smaller companies and concerns. You’d know about the Stargate Hotel chain, of course. But the old Atlantis Grand...” John let out a long breath. “That would be something different.”

This time, he found her watching him with a speculative expression. “What?”

“You feel strongly about this,” she murmured.

John wanted to explain to her the first time he remembered walking into the Atlantis Grand, a boy of seven holding tight to his grandfather’s hand as they went in for the old man’s sixtieth birthday. He wanted to describe to her the disappointment he’d felt walking through those doors twenty-five years later, looking up at the wavering light of the chandelier, and the fading shades of the carpets beneath. He wanted to tell her how he saw the hotel renovating and refurbishing to regain its former glory.

He didn’t.

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he said. He was a bit embarrassed by his force of feeling on the topic of Atlantis, but he wasn’t going to apologise for it. Still, if she wasn’t interested, he wasn’t going to bore her with the details. “But, hey, you probably don’t want to hear about that. It’s...work stuff.”

“I regret,” Teyla said, after a moment’s reflection, “I do not have much experience in the area of managing hotels.”

“Yeah, well...it’s part of my job,” John flashed a smile at her and put all thought of the Pegasus proposal behind him. “Hey, I don’t have much experience in making coffee.”

“That was self-defence,” she informed him dryly. “It was learn to use the machine or suffer burned milk for my hot chocolate.”

“However you learned it, you’re pretty good at it.”

“And that is why you kept returning to the shop?”

He glanced at her, letting his eyes linger on her face. “Part of it, anyway.”

Teyla held his gaze with one arched brow. “And was it worth it?”

John grinned at her, charm and challenge. “Why don’t we find out?”


	7. It's Not Easy Being Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know you is precisely John's cup of tea.

Teyla, it seemed, had a taste for Japanese food.

And a tongue for the Japanese language. She ordered in fluent Japanese, which impressed the waiter. And John.

John felt a little put out by the unexpected fluency - and the fact that she chose the low-seating area rather than the standard tables. Sitting down to dinner cross-legged was not his favourite position. Still, he’d let her choose the seating, and he could feel her knees almost brushing against his beneath the low, broad table. There were always upsides. “Where’d you learn to speak Japanese?” He asked as the waiter walked away.

Through the steam rising from her cup of tea, Teyla’s smile had impish overtones. “In Japan.”

He eyed her for the levity, and she laughed. “My father was stationed there for some time with his work, and so I schooled there during my years in junior high.”

John imagined a girl with dark honeyed hair sitting in the middle of a sea of little Asian kids. “Must have been a big change.”

“Not as much as returning to America when I was fourteen,” Teyla admitted, smiling as she reached for the bowl of soybeans that sat between them.

“So, your dad’s in the military? Or education?” Those were the two main professions John could think of where a man would go overseas for work and possibly take his family along with him.

“Neither,” she said gently. “He died several years ago.”

“Oh.”

“Have you lived overseas?” Teyla didn’t let him stew for more than a second, and he grabbed for the topic with relief.

“Only for a short time. Vacations and a couple of working holidays.” At her querying glance, John explained. “I did a stint with an aid group in Afghanistan while I was in college.” He’d gone in rebellion against his parents’ desire to put him in law, but he’d come out with a broader outlook on the world and his part in it.

“It was not dangerous?”

“Not at the time.” He toyed with a soybean, absently bouncing it on the tabletop like a football. “Eastern Europe was worse in the late nineties. Other than that... Europe for vacations with my parents. I did a boat trip to Antarctica a couple of years ago...”

“So you are well-travelled?”

“I’ve been around.”

Teyla laughed, and John belatedly realised the double-entendre of his words. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

“I am sure.”

He sighed. “You know, I’m fine with a boardroom full of directors who are intent on shooting down my pet project; I just get stuck when talking to women.”

“You are doing well so far,” she pointed out, then hesitated. “This pet project is the Atlantis Hotel?”

“Yeah.” John shrugged. “We’ll put the offer on the table, Monday, and then it’s just a question of waiting for them to accept or reject.”

“What will you do if they accept?”

He eyed her. “I can go on about this for hours, you know. You might want to change the topic now, while you still can.”

“No, I am curious. Please continue.” She pointed at the soybean John had been battering against the table. “You do not eat these?”

“I’m not a fan.” But he cracked it between his teeth anyway. “Mostly, it’s refurbishment,” he said, popping the soybean into his fingers. “The old Atlantis is a hotel with some of the best views across the water. It’s got a reputation that runs back for decades - you can’t buy that kind of property or that kind of history. Anyway, Rodney’s engineering teams are pretty sure the structure’s sound, and it’s mostly repairing the insides and cleaning it up...”

“The present management have not taken care of it?”

There was a critical edge in her voice, and John glanced up into dark, questioning eyes and found himself defending them. “Well, they’re a group of relatively small companies held by old families. And the hotelier arm of the Pegasus group has been fighting off takovers from Wraith Inc. for years now...” He shrugged. “They don’t have the time or energy to invest in the Atlantis. Rodney wanted to buy it up, but Elizabeth suggested a partnership proposal.”

“And you would prefer...?”

“I’d prefer an outright purchase,” he admitted. “Partnerships get messy - the more people involved, the more difficult the decision-making process. But the Atlantis Grand was where the Pegasus companies started. We can’t expect them to give it up lightly.” John stopped himself with an effort. “I’m not going to talk about this, Teyla. I’ve been talking about it all week, now.”

“It interests you.”

“Yeah, but...” John shrugged. “I didn’t ask you out to bore you with details about this.”

Teyla smiled. “You are not boring me, John. But if you wish to talk about something else...?”

“Yeah,” he said. “You.”

Her lashes dipped down, hiding her eyes for a moment before she looked up. “I do not know what you wish to know about me.”

“Anything. Everything.” John smiled and asked a question he’d idly bounced around in his head since Tuesday. “Why Miss Piggy?”

Her lips twitched. “I believe it was because she knew what she wanted and did not hesitate to attempt to acquire it by any means possible.”

John tried to imagine Teyla being as charming and cunningly ruthless as the blonde muppet. “You know, I really can’t see you as Miss Piggy.”

“Well,” she admitted. “I was also in love with Kermit.”


	8. Cursing Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz, interrupted

John turned from the valet parking attendant, in time to witness Teyla’s pause as a passing group of well-dressed men and women eyed her denim jeans and long scarf through disdainful eyes. He casually wandered up beside her and slipped an arm around her waist, prompting her up the stairs and into the hotel.

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured in her ear, noting the lovely scent of her hair. “You’re with me, and it’s not important.” John fought back the urge to take a nibble at the line of her throat. There was moving fast and there was moving too fast.

Dinner had been perfect, the tea had been hot and just to her taste, and John had learned a lot about Teyla Emmagen in the space of two hours - including the fact that her love of music wasn’t limited to country and opera, but spanned a broad range of types and styles including jazz.

Which was why they were now at the Stargate Central Hotel.

“John, if the dress requirements...”

“Teyla, I’ve been to the T-Bar Jazz Club in threadbare jeans and a t-shirt that should have been out to pasture years before.”

“If you were one of the employees of the company at the time...”

“And now I’m one of the junior partners,” said John firmly. “They’ll let us in.” And if the worst came to the worst, he’d make a call up to Murray T, who lived in a penthouse apartment at the Stargate Central, and see if that couldn’t get them in.

He wasn’t above using whatever leverage he could on this date.

As they crossed the floor, John realised her face was upturned to take in the stained-glass ceiling, a fractured leadlight window in a thousand shades of blue - from pale to peacock. Thanks to programmed lights above and outside the slightly domed canopy, the ceiling became a shimmering pool of light whose refraction echoed across the lobby floor.

“How was it done?”

“We’ve got the records somewhere. There’s a stained glass window in the Atlantis hotel that I’ve got plans to do up the same way - sunlight by day, and with blue-green tints by night. It’ll look spectacular when it’s done.”

“I can imagine,” Teyla murmured, almost beneath her breath. “Why is the Atlantis so important when you already have all this?”

John hesitated a moment before giving her his answer. On one hand, he’d been obvious enough about his passion for the Atlantis proposal. On the other...the reasons why were very personal to John.

“Because this isn’t something I had a hand in,” he admitted at last. “Stargate Central was established long before I came on the scene. I’m one of the people managing it right now, but it’s not mine.”

“And the Atlantis Grand Hotel would be yours?”

“Yeah.” John wondered if it sounded arrogant.

“What of the owners of the hotel?”

“It’s not the ownership that interests me,” John said. “That’s the province of the company directors - we’re looking more at…” A buzzing inside his jacket announced a call on his cellphone, and the caller ID was Elizabeth. After the meeting, she’d expressed the intention to do a little more research about the Pegasus group and informed John that she’d call him if anything turned up.

John grimaced to himself. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

Teyla nodded and stepped away, her fingers combing through the tasselled end of her scarf as she went to a nearby window and John answered the call.

“I’m on a date,” he said.

The voice that answered wasn’t Elizabeth’s. “Good for you. Elizabeth’s found the companies that hold the controlling interest in the Atlantis Grand,” Rodney said without preamble. “Do you want to know who they are?”

“Did I mention the part where I’m in the middle of a date?” Even as John spoke, he knew Rodney would keep talking - this was Rodney.

“We’ll start with Genii Corp.”

And Rodney suddenly had John’s complete attention.

“Kolya,” he said flatly.

“Acastus Kolya,” Rodney’s voice was just as flat.

 _Oh, God_. John reached for a straw of hope. “Wasn’t there an argument between him and Cowan Genii?”

In the background, he heard Elizabeth’s comment about not underestimating people working behind the scenes.

“And it gets better,” Rodney said with relish. “Heard of Sateda?”

“Didn’t they go down against the Wraith liquidators?”

“They did,” came the short reply. “All but the part with the controlling interest in Atlantis.”

“Which went...?”

“To the Belka Institute...and Sharon Athos of Athosia Holdings.”

“Sharo--” John broke off, only too aware of Teyla just down the hallway.

“Yes. That would be the woman in whose café we’ve been casually discussing our plans for the last week because _someone_ developed a crush on the barista!” Rodney sniffed. “Is she listening to this conversation?”

“What do you think, Rodney?”

“Well, I don’t know if you’re thinking with your brain or your dick--” In the background, Elizabeth cut Rodney off with a sharp comment. “Okay, okay! Don’t get your panties in a twist! We’re in the boardroom, 22nd floor of Central. How soon can you get here?”

John was tempted to lie that they were halfway across town and unable to get there. He didn’t. “Teyla and I were on our way to the T-Bar.”

“Great! You can dump her in the bar and come up here. We need to have a meeting...”

“I’m not dumping any--”

“Ten minutes, Sheppard.”

“It’s a Friday night!”

“All right,” Rodney said. “Let’s put it this way: do you _want_ the Atlantis proposal to go ahead or not?”

And with that, he hung up, leaving John holding his cellphone, cursing fate.


	9. Withdrawal Symptoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All he wants is five minutes and lunch. That's all. How hard can it be?

Elizabeth looked up impatiently as John gave up trying to concentrate and grabbed his cellphone. “She’ll understand, John.”

“Five minutes,” said John, holding up five fingers. “That’s all I want.”

They’d been at this all day. Statistics and numbers, holdings lists, and boards of directors. Financial statements, newspaper clippings, and notes; discussions, debates, and heated arguments. And this was just for the proposal that was to go before the Pegasus directors on Monday morning.

O’Neill hadn’t just okayed the Pegasus proposal, he’d told them that if they were so intent on jumping off a cliff, it was only fair to let the trio throw themselves before the lions. The mixed metaphor did nothing to alleviate John’s concern about the situation.

“Say ‘hi’ from us,” Rodney said, without looking up from his laptop and ignoring the glare Elizabeth sent in his direction.

As he dialled Teyla’s number, John wondered if she’d been disappointed or relieved by the interruption last night. She’d seemed very prosaic about John’s need to leave, and hadn’t stayed on at the T-Bar, although he’d pointed out she could still listen to the improv sets there.

But she’d let him take her cellphone number and program his number into hers.

Out in the corridor, John moved past the high-rise boardrooms of the Stargate Central conference centre, and out to one of the seating areas with its tea and coffee facilities.

Teyla picked it up after four rings. “Hey.”

“Hey, Teyla. It’s me, John.” There was a moment of awkward silence. All the things John had thought to say while he was working with Rodney and Elizabeth immediately fled his mind and he found himself scrambling for words. “How’s things?”

“Oh, we are very busy around here.” In the background, John could hear the radio, and the sounds of easy conversation. “You?”

“Oh, the Atlantis proposal is coming along,” he said. “We’ll be working on it all weekend for a presentation on Monday...” With a rueful smile, he broke off and flung himself down into one of the couches scattered in the area. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

“I think it is better that I do not,” Teyla said after a moment. There was a hesitant note in her voice that warned John what was coming a second before she spoke again. “John, I do not think we should be seeing each other.”

He could be calm when kicked in the teeth. He could ask, “Why not?” in a reasonable tone of voice.

Teyla hesitated. “Because there are circumstances of which you are unaware.”

“Such as?” The silence on the other end of the phone had the quality of someone trying to think of a satisfactory answer. “Did you enjoy last night?”

“I did. But--”

John rolled right over her. He had experience dealing with Rodney McKay; Teyla was easy by comparison. “Is it because I had to cut our date short?”

“It is not that.”

“Then what’s changed?”

Silence. “It would take too long--”

“I’ve got-- Okay, so I <i>don’t</i> have time. But I think you owe me an explanation. Say...tomorrow lunch?” If he had to lock the other two out of the conference room, and have security kick them out of the hotel, John would get tomorrow lunch free if Teyla would meet up with him.

“Tomorrow lunch is not possible.”

“Dinner.”

“I cannot--” She broke off, and he heard her saying something sharp to someone in the background before she came back on. “You will understand soon, John, I promise.” He heard the sigh she gave, a huff of air that transmitted lightly through the mouthpiece. “I enjoyed last night. It was...fun. I have not--” She broke off. “It was fun.”

“We could do it again.”

“I-- Not this week.”

“All right, then. Next Friday.”

“John...”

“Saturday?” John had the shaming feeling he was very close to begging.

More noise in the background - it sounded like someone yelling Teyla’s name down an echoing hallway. “John, I cannot explain it now. I...I have to go.”

“Will you be at the Bean on Monday?”

“Yes. But, John--”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

She made a sound that was almost like a sigh. “John...”

“Monday, Teyla.”

“Should I ask if it is a promise or a threat?” Teyla asked, sounding both amused and resigned. “Never mind, John. Good-bye.”

The call terminated, even as John murmured, “Take care.”

He flung the phone hard across the seating area, not caring if it broke as it skidded across the room and crashed against the wall.

What had changed? She’d had fun last night, that was obvious enough to John, and she’d said as much during their conversation. And John was pretty sure there wasn’t anyone else. But she’d retreated on him, withdrawn for no reason she was willing to admit.

As he scooped up the phone and went back inside, he wondered if he could persuade her to admit the real reason she was avoiding him when he saw her on Monday.


	10. Uncertainties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the oldest story in the book: he wants what he cannot have.

The man working the coffee machine late Monday afternoon definitely wasn’t Teyla. There was no sign of Sharon or Ronon either, and John wasn’t game to ask where Teyla was.

John left the shop without bothering to order his usual cappucino and considered calling her again. Pride intervened, and he cancelled the number without dialling.

The proposal had been laid out before the directors of the Pegasus companies that morning - among them, Sharon Athos, whose gaze had been steady and polite as John, Elizabeth, and Rodney presented the plans they’d been making in her coffee shop all week.

Thankfully, Kolya had not been one of the directors present, although Cowan Genii had watched them with the steady, if suspicious, gaze of a shrewd businessman. And although nearly a dozen companies were represented at the meeting, Athos and Genii were the major players when it came to ownership of the Atlantis Grand.

“You understand that we’ll have to consider your proposal,” Sharon Athos had said at the end of the offer. “Our individual boards need to be notified and consult on this matter.”

They’d receive a basic response by Friday, or so they’d been told.

In the meantime, there was little to do but wait.

Now that the taskgroup’s work was done, John was back in the office, looking over the accounts and maintenance of Stargate Central and trying not to think about Teyla Emmagen.

John left her alone on Tuesday, but called her on Wednesday morning, first from his cellphone, then from the phone in his office on the off-chance that she was specifically avoiding him. Both times, the number rang out with no response, which was both reassuring and depressing.

He swung idly in his chair as he stared at the display on the wall and wondered why he was doing this to himself.

If all John wanted was cheap thrills, he could get them on the city’s social circuit with nothing more than a smile. And if the thrill had millions of dollars attached to her family name, then that didn’t make her any less cheap to John’s thinking.

Teyla wasn’t either cheap or a thrill.

But if he was honest with himself, there was no way a girl working as a barista could be more than a temporary interest to a guy who came from old money and who worked for one of the most prestigious companies in the city. He should have left it at just interest - an attraction that didn’t go any further than flirting over the counter of the Athos Bean. It wasn’t as though he lacked for dates socially.

Then again, the dates John acquired were usually with a different kind of girl - shallow, self-involved women who drove fancy cars and wore high heels everywhere, wouldn’t go out without their make-up on, jingled with jewelry, and flashed plastic like it was going out of style.

Teyla worked as a barista in a coffee shop, loved tea and music of all kinds, could speak fluent Japanese, sing like a siren, and dance like a demon.

And she didn’t want to date him.

As he doodled on the pad of paper beside him, John wondered if his refusal to take ‘no’ for an answer was just pique. He liked a challenge, sure, but it wasn’t always just for the sake of the challenge. He’d still been interested in Teyla when she seemed perfectly happy to go out with him.

The circles he drew went around and around - like his thoughts. _What changed?_ Something had.

John’s pen added scalloped curves around the circles. He stared at the basic drawing of flowers and contemplated calling up a florist and sending her something.

Elizabeth and Rodney arrived just as he was reaching for the phone.

“Polite people knock,” he told them as they sat down in his office chairs.

“Who needs to be polite at a time like this?” Rodney asked as he leaned back. “We’re in!”

John jerked up, shocked by the revelation. “What? Already?”

“Not quite.” Elizabeth shot Rodney an exasperated look before she explained. “The branches of the Pegasus group involved in the Atlantis Grand hotel are curious to hear more.”

“Specifically, they want to meet us, face to face.”

“Us?”

Elizabeth qualified. “The three of us.”

“So we’re invited to dinner. The Atlantis Grand Hotel this Friday night. You can even bring your barista.”

“Rodney.” Rodney sat back and sulked as Elizabeth explained. “The invitation allows for a guest to come with us. Which seems more social than business.”

“Get our measure as people?” John wondered.

“It matches the way they usually work.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’m there.”

Dark brows arched. “With or without a date?”

John stared back levelly. “I’ll let you know.”


	11. Serious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moment of truth, there's no going back. John's serious about Teyla. He can only hope she's serious about him.

Since John only had one contact point for Teyla - other than the phone she wasn’t answering - he retraced his steps back to the Athos Bean late Thursday afternoon.

Dreadlocked Surfer Guy looked up from his magazine as John walked in the door, and leaned back to part the bead curtains with a terse, “Lover-boy’s here.”

Teyla slapped him on the shoulder as she went by. A moment later, John found himself being firmly towed to the door, her fingers warm and firm about his

“Wait, Teyla, I’m not going to-- God, just let me--”

“I do _not_ wish an audience for this,” she said, soft and inexorable as she closed the door behind them and dropped his hand.

“I wasn’t going to make a scene,” he protested, hurt that she might think that of him.

Her eyes widened a little. “I did not think you would.” She glanced towards the shop. “But Ronon is nosy.”

“Does he have a right to be?”

“Not as you think he might,” she said. A bus rumbled past them and she waited for it to go before she spoke again. “John--”

“Have you been avoiding me?”

Her expression was cagey. “I have been...busy.”

John moved out of the way of the stream of people going into the shop, but caught her arm when she glanced back at the shop. “I think you owe me more explanation than that.” He’d spent a lot of the last few days fretting over why she’d turned him down, what he’d done. Other than leaving early on Friday night, he was drawing a blank, and it was frustrating him. “You were fine with us on Friday night, and on Saturday, you changed your mind. I’d like to know why.”

“Perhaps I rethought your courtesies last Friday night,” she challenged, almost cool enough to make him believe it.

“Then why’d you say you enjoyed our time together when I called you on Saturday?”

Teyla sighed. “John, what do you want?”

“I want to know why you changed your mind. And,” he added, figuring that he might as well go double or nothing, “if it’s not because you don’t like me, then I’d like another chance.” John interrupted her, plunging on before she could negate that. “Look, the proposal I told you we were putting together? They’ve invited us to dinner at the Atlantis Grand tomorrow night, and we’re each allowed to bring a guest.”

Moment of truth, no going back. John was serious about Teyla Emmagen, now it only remained to see if Teyla was serious about him.

She hesitated. “I... John...”

Behind her, the door opened and Ronon poked his head out, dreadlocks swinging by his jaw. “We’ve got customers. You coming in?”

John wasn’t in the mood for interruptions. “Do you mind?”

Teyla got her response in before Ronon managed a retort. She didn’t seem happy about the interruption either. “In a moment!” But she waited until Ronon was gone inside before she turned to John. “You are asking me to accompany you to this dinner?”

“Yes.”

Something like a sigh gusted out of her. “What time did you want to meet?”

John remembered how to breathe again. A fierce, tense relief rushed through him, like a shot of adrenaline directly to his heart. “The dinner’s at seven-thirty, with pre-dinner drinks at six-thirty. I can pick you up...”

“I would prefer to meet you at the hotel,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “Just before six-thirty?”

“Sounds fine by me.” John agreed, exultant when, after a moment, she smiled. It was a reluctant smile, rueful with something that was almost regret, but it was there and it was enough. “What?”

“You asked why I would not see you this week.”

“Yeah.”

There was something almost wistful about her expression. “I believe I could care about you too easily, John,” she said after a moment. “And I am not convinced it would be wise.”

He flashed a quick smile. “I guess I’m the wrong person to advise you on that.”

“Yes.” Her shoulders rose and fell and she turned. “I must go.”

“Wait--” John leaned down, cradling her jaw and brushed his lips along hers. Her mouth opened briefly beneath his before she drew away, her teeth on her lower lip as she glanced up at him through sable lashes. “I’m serious about this,” he said softly.

“I know.” Teyla’s mouth quirked as she turned back with her hand on the door of the café. “I will see you tomorrow night.”

John stood outside on the pavement for a further minute, watching her move behind the coffee machine. Then he sauntered back to his car, quietly exultant, with the taste of Teyla still on his lips.


	12. Unexpected Circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Atlantis Grand Hotel was designed with a strong emphasis on water and sunlight. The result was impressive. Or had been.

John wasn’t the only one who arrived at the Atlantis Grand early on Friday night.

Elizabeth was already sitting on one of the divans in the foyer with her date, and explaining to him some of the expected outcomes of the evening. From the tolerant grin on his face, Branton was amused by her enthusiasm, but not averse to listening. He lifted a hand in greeting as John walked up.

“Sheppard.”

John nodded briefly at the guy, noting that the neat-pressed suit didn’t make the man look any less Amish. “Branton. Elizabeth.”

She pointedly surveyed his lack of date. “Teyla’s not coming?”

“We agreed to meet here,” he defended. According to the clocks above the check-in desk, it was six-twenty-five. John turned to survey the lobby of the hotel, looking for Teyla.

He’d resisted calling her all day, just to reassure himself that she was going to come tonight.

The architect of the Atlantis Grand, one John C. Hudson, had designed the building with an emphasis on sunlight and water - both were heavily incorporated into the lobby’s design, from the twelve-yard high stained glass window along the southern side of the lobby, to the flow of the stairs leading up to the galleries and the curving swirl of the wooden banisters that rose with them.

In its heyday, the darkened chandelier above had glittered vividly, illuminating the main lobby area. These days, the low lighting hid the worn carpet on the floor. According to the inspection reports of the last five years, the place was clean, just not particularly presentable.

That would change.

“Well, I see Sheppard’s barista declined the invitation,” said Rodney from behind him.

John turned to find Rodney and Katie just arriving at the divan, cutting off a redhead in a slinky cocktail dress, whose dark eyes glared daggers after the couple.

“Rodney.” Katie’s remonstration only reined in her fiancé for a moment. “Elizabeth, Mike, John.”

“Katie,” John leaned over and kissed Katie on the cheek. He liked Rodney’s fiancee, although he thought she had to be mad to have encouraged Rodney in the first place, let alone agree to marry him. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

“Isn’t that my line?” Rodney protested.

“Have you used it tonight?”

“Well, er...”

John rolled his eyes. “Say it now!”

“But if I say it now, it’s got no spontaneity!”

“Rodney, you wouldn’t know spontaneity if it kicked you in the ass. Just say it.”

The other man grumbled, but managed a reasonably sincere compliment.

“Thank you Rodney,” Katie said, kissing him on the cheek. A smile glinted faint across her lips as she looked to John. “And thank you, John. You’re looking very handsome tonight.”

That got Rodney started, of course, complaining that John got all the compliments. John left it to Katie to reassure her fiance that he also looked handsome. A glance at the front desk showed it to be just on six-thirty, Elizabeth interrupted Rodney to suggest they go over to the hotel’s restaurant where, apparently, the Pegasus group had hired a private room for the dinner.

John was about to tell them to go on ahead when he spotted Teyla crossing the lobby floor towards them.

With her hair swept up on her head in one of those hairstyles that seemed to have hidden all the ends, the shape of her face changed, defined by delicate cheekbones and the fine line of her jaw. The dress was something silvery-grey with a white sash - John wasn’t noticing the details.

She looked better than gorgeous, and he went out to meet her a few feet away from the others so he could give her a kiss without feeling too self-conscious of the stares.

Her expression was laughing as they came up from the kiss. “I like your way of saying hello, John.”

John felt his cheeks heat a little. “I rather like it myself,” he quipped, and watched her smile. “You look beautiful,” he said as he took her hand firmly in his own and drew her back to the others who were watching with varying expressions. “Guys, this is Teyla Emmagen. Teyla, you’ve seen Elizabeth and Rodney at the café; that’s Mike Branton, and this is Katie Brown, soon to be McKay.”

A chorus of easy greetings met Teyla’s arrival in their group, although Elizabeth had an odd expression on her face. John gave her a warning look and she shrugged. Rodney cleared his throat and suggested they make their way to the restaurant.

The maitre’d was obsequious as they gathered at the restaurant entrance. “Ah, yes. You’re out on the terrace. This way, ma’am, ladies and gentlemen...”

John followed the maitre’d through the maze of white-draped tables with their tea-light candles burning in delicate holders and out to the terrace that overlooked the sea with the setting sun far off to the west. In the background, Pink was singing, _Who Knew?_

Caught by the breathtaking sight of the sun sinking into the western sea, it took John a moment to actually see who was out on the terrace. When he did, he blinked.

Seated at the table, looking groomed and stylish were Sharon Athos, Cowan Genii, a sandy-haired man and a slender, blonde woman, a petite redhead with dark eyes...and the surfer guy from the cafe.

It took John a moment to recognise Ronon - the man in the collared shirt was a far cry from the casual surfer who’d eyed him over yesterday, or walked into the Bean on Wednesday. Judging by his presence here with Athos and Genii, he was a _very_ far cry from who he’d appeared to be. In the silence just behind him, John could hear Rodney and Elizabeth rearranging their perceptions. A moment later, his own took a hard hit as Teyla dropped his hand and stepped away.

“Sharon, Cowan, you have already met John Sheppard, Elizabeth Weir, and Rodney McKay. Their companions are Katie Brown and Mike Branton.” Teyla spoke with a brisk authority, her demeanour businesslike with the casual amusement of the barista gone. “These are Ronon Dex of Sateda Industries, and Ladon Radim, Dahlia Radim, and Sora Baraia from Genii Corp.”

“And Teyla represents the hospitality arm of Athos Holdings,” Sharon said in explanation of Teyla’s presence.

John scrambled for something to say.

Rodney beat him to it, of course.

“You could have told us!” Rodney eyed her, probably grumpy because he’d been thrown off-balance. “Unless you did, and Sheppard just didn’t pass the message on.”

John’s eyes narrowed briefly, but Teyla interrupted. “John did not know.”

Her eyes met his, soft and steady, and he heard her words in his head. _There are circumstances of which you are unaware._

“I am sorry, John.”


	13. Fortune's Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd been lucky. There would have gone John's chance at the Atlantis Grand, but for the grace of a coffee shop barista.

“Why?”

They’d been served drinks, and John had indulged in a double-malt whiskey just to get the courage to ask her the only question that mattered - and enough calm so he wouldn’t take her by the shoulders and shake her for not telling him.

She turned, setting the delicate silver of her earrings a-twinkle in the candles that the waiters had quietly lit while taking their drink orders. That same light reflected back out of her eyes as she looked at him. “At first, I did not know,” she admitted, looking down at her champagne glass. “And then you mentioned the Atlantis Grand Hotel, and...I did not know how to tell you.”

“So you just let me ramble on,” John said. The words came out sharper than he liked, even if he was angry about her silence.

“I tried to make space between us,” she defended.

“You never said why.”

“No.” The candlelight glittered off her shoulders as she shrugged, setting afire the fine hairs on her skin, a blaze of beauty as she lifted her face to his. “This dinner is the others’ concession,” she said. “If you can convince them to negotiate with you, then you will have your pet project.”

He eyed her. “And you?”

Her smile was slight and seemed forced, even in the twilight falling down around them. “You have my vote on the council. For whatever it is worth.”

“You said this dinner was the others’ concession,” he said. “You got them to talk to us?”

Teyla paused in the act of turning away. “You felt so strongly about the Atlantis. And you were right - we have not put our full efforts into the running of the hotel.” Her gaze rested on the sweeping curves of the terrace and the piers and pontoons that floated down in the bay below them. “My parents were married here, on this terrace, and they would come here every year to celebrate.”

She shrugged, and the gesture held much more than just a casual dismissal of the memory. Whatever had happened to her parents, the recollection was painful enough that she’d stopped caring about the hotel.

John bit back his own questions.

She’d offered him the chance to achieve a dream that had been impossible - if he’d only known it - and done so in the face of painful memories. It was only fair to give something back in return. “I was seven,” he said. “My grandfather was celebrating his sixtieth birthday and we came here.”

He turned his back on the bay and the ocean that lapped below, and looked at the rising coils and spires of the hotel’s design, felt the old lump in his throat - an emotional reaction that clogged his throat, making his voice husky as he admitted, “I was in love from the moment I saw it.”

“It has that effect on people,” Teyla agreed, and John didn’t need to look at her to see the agreement - or the indulgence - in her brief smile.

He turned his head to look at the composed outline of her profile, softly tan against the navy sea, and wondered if it was just the Atlantis Hotel he’d fallen for at first sight.

The thought stuck with him through dinner and was still with him when they began serving up coffee. John sipped his latte and thought that it wasn’t a patch on the stuff at the café.

“So what are you doing being a barista at the Athos Bean anyway?” Rodney demanded of Teyla during a moment of silence at the table. “Or are you learning from the ground up?”

Ladon Radim’s mouth quirked as he glanced at his colleague. “Teyla enjoys making coffee.”

“It’s the only thing she _can_ make.” By contrast, Sora’s smile wasn’t entirely nice.

“And she does it very well,” came Dahlia’s sharp retort.

“We have all done time on the shop floors of the various businesses in the Pegasus group,” said Teyla, answering Rodney as though the others hadn’t spoken and interrupting whatever animosity was between the two women. “However, as Sora has said, I am no great cook, so I take pride in what I _can_ make.”

“You’re good at coffee,” John said, meeting her eyes along the length of the table.

“Coffee and companies,” said Dahlia with a smile.

Ronon grinned. “And spending money.”

“Better than crashing cars,” she replied with pointed sweetness.

“Which reminds me,” said Rodney. “ _Why_ can’t Ronon afford another car?”

“He can afford another _car_ ,” she said with pointed emphasis. “He cannot afford another Murcielago.”

John was horrified. “You crashed a Murcielago?”

“A _Lamborghini_ Murcielago?” Mike was similarly shocked.

“He was going nearly two hundred when he spun out and met a telephone pole coming the other way,” said Sora with a cool, sideways glance at Ronon. “He was lucky to walk away.”

“At two hundred miles an hour?” Elizabeth said, setting down her cup. “I’d say you have a charmed life, not just luck.”

Ronon grinned and winked at Elizabeth in response.

But as the conversation turned to the various cars driven by the people around the table, their advantages and luxuries, John figured it wasn’t just Ronon who’d been lucky.

\--

When the others left, John stayed behind. They’d probably get hold of him tomorrow - the concept of ‘weekend’ tended to get forgotten at Stargate Enterprises. Right now, he wanted to speak to Teyla.

Sora gave him a hard look as he waited for Teyla out in the lobby, but other than the faint smirk, she said nothing. On the other hand, Ronon eyed him with the look of someone who was debating whether or not to confront an issue head-on or just leave it - at least until Dahlia Radim touched him on the shoulder and drew him away. Ladon Radim smiled thoughtfully as he and Teyla came out of the restaurant, but other than murmuring something in her ear as he pushed her towards John, the slim man said nothing.

John was just as relieved that he wasn’t going to get any flak from Teyla’s colleagues. Elizabeth and Rodney would be grilling him tomorrow about all this - asking how he couldn’t have known or realised.

Teyla glared after Radim, but after only a brief hesitation, she lifted her chin and crossed over to John.

“So,” he said. “Are they going to think us over?”

“Yes. Although it will be some time before we get back to you.”

John fell into step beside her, gently scuffing the soles of his shoes across the fine old tiles of the lobby floor. “You know, I thought twice about asking you out.”

Her sideways glance was carefully neutral. “Perhaps you should have thought a third time.”

“It would have been the same answer,” John pointed out. “And if I hadn’t asked you out, you wouldn’t have heard me going on about the Atlantis, so you wouldn’t have even listened to our proposal.”

From the look on her face, John guessed Teyla had never looked at it that way. “I suppose,” she admitted at last, brushing away a wisp of hair that promptly fell back down across her cheek. “We might have considered your offer.”

“Or just turned it down.” He stopped in a corner of the lobby, using a potted palm as a screen against the curious gazes of the staff on the main floor. Teyla looked up at him quizzically as he asked, “Would you have invited us to dinner?”

Her answer took a moment to come. “No,” she admitted. “We would not.”

“Then it’s lucky for us I asked you out.”

“And is that the only good thing that came from it?”

The warm white lighting of the lobby gave the planes of her face a burnished sheen, like polished bronze. In answer, John reached out to tuck a wisp of hair behind her ear and let his fingers linger on the warm skin of her neck. “I don’t think that even deserves an answer,” he said quietly.

Teyla flushed, but her lashes only dipped down for a moment, and John felt his skin mirror her embarrassment. He didn’t usually address things so directly. To cover his momentary discomfort, he said, “You know, it’s a Friday night again and the T-Bar is open.”

One eyebrow quirked at him as she tilted her head. “Are you sure I am dressed for it?” Then she laughed as he made a face at her.

“Just so you know, I’ve already done my business for the night. We won’t be interrupted.” And if anyone called him, they were going to voicemail.

“So it is a date, then?”

John took her hand in his own, suddenly a little more serious. “Teyla, this is dat _ing_.”

This time, he wasn’t going to let her make excuses, and he wasn’t going to make excuses for himself. If it meant moving a little faster, then he’d step outside his comfort zone and risk it. What was life without risk?

Still, Teyla’s silence went long enough for him to break into a sweat and wonder if he’d moved _too_ fast. He’d let her dictate the pace, but he wasn’t going to accept her retreat. They could always throttle back if she wanted, but John had laid his cards down and she wasn’t going to get to ignore them.

When the tints of a smile softened the austere angles of cheekbone and jaw, John almost laughed in relief. “You enjoy going fast, John.”

He confined his elation to a slight smile. “You _were_ warned in advance.”

“I was,” she agreed. “So I will have to learn to like college football, then?”

“Yeah.” John slid an arm around her, and let himself enjoy the feel of her arm slipping around and under the edge of his jacket. “I’ll try not to be jealous of Kermit and we’ll make it a deal, huh?”

Her laughter rang through the entranceway of the Atlantis Grand Hotel as they sauntered out to collect John’s car.

John grinned into her hair. Lucky, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they drive off into the sunset in a Maserati Spyder.
> 
> The original idea was based in a point made by lierdumoa during the Barista!Wank in SGA fandom. Her observation was that Teyla and Ronon usually get assigned the ‘low socioeconomic roles’ in AU stories - ‘low socioeconomic status’ usually being an authorial shorthand for ‘unimportant characters unworthy of my interest’.
> 
> This began as an attempt to turn the tables on the trend: have characters of ‘low socioeconomic status’ that are nevertheless ‘important’ to the main plot. Somewhere along the way, the attempt at ideology kinda got lost - mostly because after the first couple of chapters, it’s pretty obvious to the reader that Teyla, Sharon, and Ronon have something to do with the Atlantis Grand Hotel, so the only prejudices being challenged are John, Rodney, and Elizabeth’s - and it turned into just another story to be told.
> 
> For those who are asking where Carson is...I don’t have a satsifactory answer for you or myself. I’m sorry. I strongly encourage you to prod me to write In Life’s Name and Requiem For A Healer, both of which will feature Carson quite significantly.


End file.
